


Distractions

by sambethe



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Always, F/M, Missing Scene, Neverland Renaissance, Sharing a Bed, Smut, all depends on your point of view, or - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambethe/pseuds/sambethe
Summary: What she needs is to shut out the voices, the doubts, the fears. Hook is more than happy to comply.





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [optomisticgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/optomisticgirl/gifts).



> For @optomisticgirl who won a fic of her choosing in my tumblr follower appreciation giveaway. She requested smutty Neverland-era bedsharing. Thanks, B, for the fabulous prompt! Thanks also to @justanotherwannabeclassic for the read-through!

It was hot. She was tired. And all she really wanted was a fucking shower.

A long, cold shower where she could stop feeling beads of sweat gather between her shoulder blades and drip down her back. Where she could banish this shirt to the depths of her drawer, never to feel its cotton cling and scratch at her skin. Where she didn’t have to be tramping through a jungle where not even the night could manage to bring relief from the stifling heat.

Emma watched Hook weave through branches, pulling them aside, holding them back so she could move through unobstructed. She supposed she should be grateful for his help, for his reassurance. His words still echoed in her head, _I’ve yet to see you fail_ , but all she wanted was silence. Was it too much to ask for a few moments of peace, a few moments where she could be alone, where she could think? No one else talking, no sniping, no high-pitched cicada-like noises surrounding her, fanning out far into the distance. No whispered voices gnawing at the edges of her thoughts, reminding her what she really was, deep down.

“How about we rest here for the night?”

“What?” She stumbled a bit as Hook’s words reverberated through the palm fronds that surrounded them. She peered out on the small clearing beyond where he stood.

“It’s late and we should rest. The shoals were further than I recalled. We’ve still got hours to go before we make it back to the camp where we left your parents with Neal and the Evil Queen.”

She cursed and hoped the plants Hook had gathered at the shores where the two waters met would be what Regina would need. “But we need to get back, to get to Henry. We’ve already wasted too much time.”

“Aye, but we’ll do your boy no good if we are too exhausted to face Pan with our wits about us.”

She wanted to argue, to push forward, but then Hook reached out and lifted the strap of her pack from her shoulder. With some of the weight lifted, her shoulder sagged and a wave of exhaustion hit her. He stepped closer, nudging the strap down her arm and she stiffened.

“You should sleep awhile, Swan.”

She let him pull the pack off her back. “What about you?”

He shrugged. “We’ve just the one bedroll,” he said, lifting the pack as he did in emphasis. “I can keep watch.”

She wanted to argue, to point out the how the skin beneath his eyes had begun to go dark and purple, but without the pack’s weight to focus her, she found it difficult to form words. Instead she sunk to the ground at the foot of one of the nearby trees, leaning back against it to rest. She turned her head as Hook began to roll his coat down his shoulders, trying to keep herself from staring as he shed his layers of clothing. When she glanced back, it was to find both the coat and his leather vest folded neatly and him bent over her pack, pulling the bedroll from the leather loops at the bottom of it.

The shirt he was left in was thin. She could make out the smooth skin of his shoulders beneath it and the way his muscles moved and stretched as he swept his hands along the foam padding, flattening it as he went. She knew she should stop staring, but she was tired and the thought of his sweat-slicked skin too tempting. She wondered if the skin at the curve of his lower back would taste as good as his mouth.

_Get it together,_ she thought and stood. _This is not happening. Not here._ She pulled a couple of coconuts from the tree next to her and dropped them on the bedroll before following suit. Hook, still kneeling on the ground, picked one up without her asking and carved a hole with the tip of his hook before handing it back to her.

He took the second and then began to stand. “I’ll leave you -”

“Don’t,” she whispered, wrapping her free hand around his hook and tugging gently.

He glanced at her, eyebrow raised, but settled back down next to her without a word. They sat there, both their knees drawn up towards their chest, drinking from their coconuts and not speaking a word. When they were done, he took hers from her and placed it alongside of his to the side of the bedroll. She could see the thoughts churning through his head as they continued to sit in silence, could see him trying to puzzle her out. She knew she should pull away, to put a stop to the path her thoughts were going down.

Instead, she dropped her eyes to his chest, to where the charms of his necklace sat in the nest of hair at the open line of his shirt. Before she could stop herself, she reached out, pressing her hand over the charms and nudged him. Taking her hint, he lay down on his side and she followed, wrapping her hand around his necklace as she faced towards him.

“What is it you want, Emma?” he asked, not moving even as she rubbed the back of one knuckle against his chest.

“A distraction,” she replied without meaning to.

He smirked, drawing the tip of his tongue at the corner of his mouth. “Oh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not like that.” She let go of his necklace charms.

“Like what?”

“Like whatever has got you doing that thing with your tongue.” She gestured towards his mouth and then dropped her hand to her stomach.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh huh,” she muttered, turning and pressing her back against his chest. Hook drew his arm around her waist and covered her hand with his. She could feel a jolt run down her spine at the contact, and again his words filled her thoughts.

_Well, that’s when the fun begins._

He had said them with such promise, the heat in his eyes clear beneath the earnestness of the words. She could once again feel her breath shallow in anticipation. She should stop this, what she was doing in this moment. She should be focused on getting Henry back and not whatever this was between them.

Instead she threaded her fingers through his. “Tell me what you used to do, last time you were here. How did you drown out all the noise?”

He hummed and squeezed her hand a moment before slipping free of her grip and drawing the tips of his fingers back and forth along her stomach. “Well, there was the rum.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed, and he winked before tilting his chin to encourage her to turn her back away from him. He continued to idle his hand along her belly for a few minutes before eventually answering, “I read,” as he moved to fingering the edge of her t-shirt.

Emma wanted to arch into his touch, to encourage his hand further, but kept still as he continued. “Kept plenty of books on the Jolly Roger, enough to focus a man for a while. Taught myself both Latin and the dialect of Arabic spoken in Agrabah. At least enough to read, mind you, the pronunciation of Agrabadese is tricky if you don’t have a native to sound out the diphthongs with you.”

She turned her head again, just enough to catch his eye, her eyebrow raised. “You taught yourself two languages while stuck on an island full of children bent on killing you?”

“Aye.” He grinned and waggled his own brow in return. “Would you like me to teach you?”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention forward again. “What else?”

“Well,” he started, slipping his fingers beneath her shirt and smoothing his hand along the bare skin of her stomach. “There are other, more enjoyable, things one learns to distract oneself with.” He curled his hand, circling her navel with the back of his knuckles.

“Are you telling me Captain Hook spent a lot of his time in Neverland jerking off?” She meant to end the jibe with a laugh, but it came out as more of a sigh when he flattened his hand against her and the tips of his splayed fingers grazed the band of her bra.

Hook shifted, and she could feel the heat of his thigh against the back of hers, despite the two layers of fabric between them. “A man does have needs,” he murmured, his breath coming out in puffs against the shell of her ear, “and so few options for companions in the sorts of endeavors you’re implying.”

“Couldn’t convince Tinker Bell to help you out with that?” she teased, tilting her head to the side, exposing more of her neck to him.

“Ahh, things between Lady Bell and I were complicated.”

This time she did snort. “Complicated, huh?”

“Aye, but that’s neither here nor there.” He drew a single finger down her stomach, from breast bone to navel before looping it back up the same path. “Not at a moment when _you_ seem awfully interested in how a man keeps his skills fresh when left to his own devices.”

“That still sounds like a fancy way of saying you spent a lot of time jerking off.”

“The way you say that, Swan.” He paused and brushed his nose at the juncture of her neck and shoulder before continuing, “You make it sounds as if you’ve never touched yourself.” His teeth grazed her skin and she shifted again, pressing back, but he still did not kiss her. “And I know that cannot possibly be the truth.”

“I -” She gulped and started again. “I didn’t say that.”

“Ahh,” he breathed as his finger dipped again, skirting the waist of her pants and making it difficult to focus on his words or to remember why it was she should ask him to stop. “So the princess _is_ acquainted with the feel of her own wet skin beneath her fingers. Tell me,” he continued, his fingers twisting around the button of her pants. “What is it you do when you are alone in your bed? How is it you like to be touched?”

Emma bit her lip, trying to use the brief spike of pain to clear her head, to remind herself why it was she was here. To remember that it wasn’t to turn around and wrap her thighs around a pirate and fuck him into a jungle floor. But that was when she noticed that for the first time since they had arrived on this island everything had gone almost quiet. While the voices and the cicadas and whatever else were still there, they seemed muffled and distant, and she was grateful for the moment to be alone in her head.

Turning her head to catch Hook’s eye, she wrapped her fingers around his and ran her thumb along his, pressing it back towards the button of her pants. “How about I show you?”

Her words seemed to be the permission he had been waiting for, if the hurried way he opened her fly and used her hand to help him shove her pants and underwear down to mid-thigh was any indication. His fingers skirted back up her thigh, nails scraping lightly, causing her core to clench and her hips to shift. She moaned and dropped her own hand to her stomach, slowly inching her way down until she met his where they hovered over her core. Guiding his fingers between her folds, she drew them down and then back up to circle her clit.

“Hook,” she breathed and arched into his touch as he drifted from her fingers and began to lightly tease at his own pace, his fingers gliding and caressing as her own fell away to rest at her thigh.

“That's it,” he murmured, “relax and let me.”

She nodded, leaning her head back into his shoulder, words failing her as his fingers brushed along her entrance. He dragged them along in strong, steady loops against her sensitive skin, and Emma nearly whimpered each time he skimmed past her clit, skirting just shy of where she wished he’d touch her. When she arched again, shifting her hips and reaching over to guide his fingers to where she wanted him, he brought his left arm around her, bracing it over her chest and holding her and her arm in place. He tutted and started another sweep of his fingers.

“All in good time, princess.”

She cursed and could feel his grin as he pressed his mouth to her neck, but despite his words he increased the pressure of his fingers and settled his thumb at her clit. She cried out again when his thumb began to move in a tight circle without moving from its place at her clit, the pressure and movement almost too much and not enough all at once.

Hook continued his steady stream of dirty praise in her ear as he increased his pace and pushed the tips of two fingers inside her. She moaned and rocked in time with his shallow thrusts, and could feel the start of her orgasm curl at the base of her spine. She had the brief presence of mind to be grateful they were nowhere near her parents, near Neal, because the din of Neverland continued to recede and all she could hear was the sound of Hook’s breath and her cries, accompanied by the wet sound of his fingers against her skin.

By the time the last pulse of her orgasm faded, she found herself with her back against the padding of the bedroll, and Hook tugging her underwear down her legs to join a pile with her boots and pants. Emma propped herself up on her elbows as he began to draw his mouth up the side of her leg, his intent clear in the sweep of his tongue and the way his eyes didn’t move from hers. She wanted to object, to say she was too hot, too sweaty, that it was too intimate, but then he bit at the skin of her inner thigh and she could feel her clit throb in response and her words garbled and twisted into a guttural moan. So instead she dropped her head back as he bit down harder, following it with a soothing sweep of his tongue.

He had barely brushed his nose along her folds, following it with his tongue when she felt the beginnings of another orgasm build and lick along her spine. And when he brought his mouth fully to her, pulling her between his lips and sliding his fingers within her, the shout she gave would have made her blush in any other circumstance.

She didn’t last long from there, Hook’s pace unrelenting and her own body too keyed up to allow her to drag it out. When she finished, her thighs aching and her breath still shallow, he offered her a sly grin as he watched, his chin propped on his hand, from between her legs.

“Distraction enough for you, love?”

She laughed and Hook rolled and dropped beside her, tucking his left arm beneath his head. She turned to him, skating her hand down his chest, intent on curling her fingers around the buckle of his belt. Before she could reach it though, he stopped her, threading their fingers together and resting their joint hands low on his belly. She glanced up at him with narrowed eyes, his smile having morphed to a much softer one.

“Next time,” he said, answering her unasked question.

“What makes you think they’ll be a next time?” she replied with a roll of her eyes before settling her head at his shoulder.

“Next time,” he repeated, working his right arm beneath her waist and tugging her closer.

She shook her head, but moved closer, her eyes drooping closed. She knew she should move, should grab her pants, should turn away, but those were problems for later, for when the noise and the voices returned. For now, she’d just lie here.

In silence.

And sleep.

Everything else would wait.


End file.
